


Sceptical

by DrbWrite



Series: Twisted Toys, Broken Boys [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Big Brothers, Gen, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mental Health Issues, Mother-Son Relationship, Original Character(s), Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 09:06:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8743867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrbWrite/pseuds/DrbWrite
Summary: A Wild Sequel-Prequel Appears:
“You didn’t.” - Chris McCall
It was a plea more than anything else.





	1. A Tale Of Two Brothers

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sceptic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4967728) by [DrbWrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrbWrite/pseuds/DrbWrite). 



* * *

 

It’s funny how these things turn out.

 

* * *

 

 

Chris had been planning to go to a party with his girl, Alicia, but his brother kept causing trouble. He knew that it wasn’t Harry’s fault that he was the way he was, that it was just his condition that caused him to behave the way he did. That still didn’t guarantee that any friends of his would understand. But he really didn’t want to be that guy towing his kid brother with him everywhere. So he asked around. Found out who would be willing to babysit his brother, seeing as how he didn’t want Harry to stay home with Mom. She would just be so condescending, and treat him like a baby. Which, not cool. Just cause Harry had a mental illness didn’t mean he couldn’t choose if he wanted to eat a sandwich or not. Only a few persons were willing to watch his brother. His bro, Derek, volunteered himself. Which was fortunate, seeing how Derek was the one hosting the party. And in hindsight, was so _obvious_. So he asked Derek to watch over his little brother. He did trust him. He didn’t know…

 

So he and Alicia were going hot and heavy, listening to the music, having a good time. And he didn’t once think of his brother. All that was on his mind was getting all up in his girlfriend. So he didn’t think to check on the kid. He thought of sex, he thought of _fucking sex_ , while his brother was…

 

It wasn’t until _after_ that he even knew anything had gone down. Chris had thought everything would be fine. He’d get laid, his brother would be entertained, and everything would be okay. He hadn’t anticipated what would happen, what he would see.

 

It was horrifying.

 

* * *

 

He opened his eyes in the pitch black room. Something had awakened him. From where he lay on the bed he could feel the heat of a body next to him, the warmth of his girlfriend plastered to his side. The sheets had slid down to his hips in the time that he had been asleep. A bit confused, Chris patted at the dark space on his left in search of his phone. The blind movements proved successful and the lighting up his phone screen. The beacon of light helped him to locate his phone, and in the dark room he sat up in bed, his phone cradled in his left hand. There he sat for a minute, muddling through the fog that was his thoughts as he tried to recall what had awakened him. As if summoned by his thoughts, a clatter was heard outside the room, muffled as it was. _It’s just some drunk dude. Probably._ Despite his already figuring out what had caused the noise, still he felt a burning need to investigate. It wasn’t his responsibility to corral drunks, but his inner Christian was prodding him to give a helping hand.

 

With some light bruising around his shins, Chris was able to come away from his blind search through the room with his pants in hand. Quickly he dressed himself, and made his way to the bedroom door, which he promptly opened.

 

Light flooded the room as though the heavens had opened, leaving him blinking in vain for a few precious moments. When his eyes had adjusted to the light and his vision returned, his eyes were drawn downward at the sound of a hitched breath. In the doorway laid a very familiar figure. _Harlan!_

 

He could feel his heart race as he quickly crouched down to check on his brother. Harlan’s face was pale and bruised, his boyish features marred by the bruising that covered the majority of his face. His eyes were red rimmed, with deep dark shadows dwelling beneath them. The lower half of his face was a swollen mess, as though someone’s fist had worked hard at softening it to putty. The rest of his body was too much for Chris to even dwell on. The mere fact that he was _nude_ …

 

The beating of his heart overshadowed the sound of a door opening across the hall. He didn’t hear the heavy footsteps that approached him. He didn’t want to.

 

“So you found him, huh?”

 

The casual tone of voice, it lit a flame within him. Tears came to his eyes, as he brought his gaze up to meet that of his friend. His best friend. The blue eyes were cold, his face chiseled from ice. He didn’t want to think that _Derek_ had- “You didn’t.” It was a plea more than anything else. A beg that stemmed from a need that everyone has to believe in something pure, _untainted._ It was not unlike the plea Harlan had made to their mother that, “Santa can be good, right, Mommy?” Also not unlike his brother’s plea, it was bound to be shot down coldly, disemboweled, dismembered and ground into miniscule pieces.

 

The bastard had it in him to laugh. As though it were a fucking joke. “I did.”

 

Chris couldn’t stand to look at the smile on his face. One Chris had admired times before for being so honest and free. His _best friend. His_ best friend.

 

Derek raised a brow at his defeated stance, the slump of his shoulders, and the bow of his head. The brunet didn’t seem to be worried at all. “So…?”

 

The lilting question relit the flame in Chris that was so quickly smothered in the face of the revelations. “You're going to go to jail, you sick fuck! I’ll put you there myself if I have to! You can’t just rape little boys for shits and giggles! I can’t believe-”

 

The man that stood beside him smiled in the face of his anger. “I never thought I’d see it, the day you grew a pair and stopped acting like a little bitch. _Oh, Derek, you’re so cool. Oh, Derek, what’s college like? Oh, Derek, can you really? Oh, Derek, you’re so lucky._ ” He clutched his hands before his chest and swayed as he mocked the teen. “What the fuck, man? Geez. I couldn’t be the guy who made fun of Pastor McCall’s golden boy. So I had to just grin and bear your presence, even when I didn’t want to.” He scoffed in the face of Chris’ tears. “ _Please._ It’s not like you really cared what happened to him. For fuck’s sake, you were quick to pass him off so you could go partying.” Derek shook his head with an amused expression on his face, “Really shitty for a guy who was supposed to be his brother’s keeper.”

 

Chris lunged for the older male, hoping to strangle him where he stood. Being smaller than and not as athletic as Derek, his efforts were deterred with no great trouble on Derek’s part. Chris’ knuckles popped as he clenched his fists hard in his belligerence. “Derek. _Stop._ I get it, okay? I get it!” He shouted, voice cracking mid-sentence.

 

His anger did nothing to remove the malicious glee that had taken root in Derek’s expression. Instead, it moved the larger male to give a snort of laughter and continue on his journey out of the house. As he descended the stairs, he turned back to Chris and gave one last crushing statement, “Take care of this. You wouldn’t want my parents to.” With his word said, he continued down the stairs. A minute later, Chris heard the front door slam and a car start.

_Derek’s parents would discredit and disgrace our family,_ Chris realized. Such a rich and influential couple wouldn’t stand for any slander against their son, even if the accusations were true. The only thing that mattered was the idea that their son was a successful business man doing the family name proud. With a heavy heart, Chris bent down and took his brother’s body into his arms. _If people find out, we’ll be in a lot of trouble._ Chris cast a troubled glance to the mottled and bruised face of his brother, scrunched up in pain, even in his unconsciousness. His feet were lead as he made his way out of the house of his friend.

 

* * *

 

The big brother in him wept at the sight of his brother. _Harlan had been doing so well_. Chris watched in misery as his mother wrestled with his little brother as he screamed, pulling at his blond locks. It had only been three days since _the incident,_ and Harlan showed no signs of improvement. Chris hadn’t been able to stop Harlan from crying as he woke up in the clinic. The preteen had cried big ugly sobs that came from deep in his soul, that’s how raw and hurt they were. Chris hadn’t been able to stop him from flinching, afraid of the doctor, someone he should have been able to trust. Harlan had frozen up, forest green eyes wide, his mouth moving a mile a minute as he whispered to a voice only he could hear.

 

It was worse, in Chris’ opinion that Harlan had decided to forgo his medication. He had been undergoing a change in prescription, because his auditory hallucinations had been increasing in frequency and strength. Chris remembered his brother’s explanation, shaky though his voice was, struggling as he repeated words like a broken record. The shadows that were under his eyes had taken residence on his face, with how long they had remained. Harlan had shakily explained, in that soft voice of his, that _the voice_ only wanted to help him. It had been a struggle to not grab him by his shoulders and shake the poor kid. The idea that Harlan trusted the voice in his head more than his own family was disheartening.

 

While he ruminated on his brother, his mother had managed to get Harlan to calm down and retreat to his room. Her usually composed self was frazzled, her hair a tangled mess, her dress crumpled, her signature pearl necklace long abandoned for its impracticality, her eyes tired in a way that they had never been before. Her grey eyes found Chris where he slouched at the kitchen table, and a determined glint entered her eye as she made her way to him quickly from where she been by the counter. “Christopher,” she implored, her voice cool as cucumber, still as proper as ever, “surely you know that this can’t continue.” Her eyes like burning coals as they remained focused on him.

 

Chris almost broke then. But almost like a wraith, the memory of that Saturday night returned to him, and he found himself avoiding the question. “Mom, there’s nothing wrong.” He could tell immediately that it was the wrong thing to say as a storm brewed on her face.

 

“That is the last time I’m going to be taking this, this _disobedience_ from you. I raised you up a good Christian boy and here you are lying to me!” His mother hissed. “You know this won’t be any better when your father gets here,” she looked away from him then, as though she couldn’t handle the sight of him at that moment.

 

Chris found that he couldn’t quite look at her either. Their dad…He was a good guy. He just never seemed to get it. The idea that mental illnesses are real, that they aren’t just some kind of misbegotten game of pretend, he never accepted.

 

His mother turned her gaze to the closed door to Harlan’s room. “I’ll just ask your brother.” Her voice was tired.

 

Chris felt guilty, but he pushed it aside, convinced that silence would be the best option for everyone.

 

* * *

 

When Harlan emerged from his room, Chris made a point of having his brother follow him onto the porch. He took a seat on the cushioned porch bench and patted the seat beside.

 

Harlan settled onto the bench slowly and with great care. The young boy wouldn’t look at him, his eyes lowered and gazing at some unknown sight that was before him.

 

It was with great trepidation that Chris broached the subject that he had asked Harlan to keep quiet on. “Hey, Har, I know that you didn’t deserve what happened to you.” Chris felt as though a great lead weight were in his throat. “And, you- you aren’t at fault for what happened.” Chris gazed off into the distance, hoping the fading light of the sun would grant him the strength to unveil his plans. “I am more than at fault for carrying you somewhere that I knew you wouldn’t be supervised.”

 

“I’m not not not a baby.”

 

Chris stared at his interlocked fingers where they laid in his lap. “You’re not. But, I’m your big brother, Harlan. You’re my responsibility, like any 12-year-old is the treasured one of their family. It’s not about protecting you from yourself, but protecting you from others who would take advantage of you.”

 

“You’re lying.” Harlan’s words were laced with hurt.

 

Chris shook his head vehemently, “No, I’m not. I love you and I’m so _fucking_ sorry that what happened happened.” For a moment the older blond’s eyes flitted to where he knew his sibling sat. Harlan’s face was downturned, the shadows of the evening making a theatre of his features, something riveting, and fascinating in its vulnerability. The teen couldn’t bear it and returned his gaze to his hands. “I don’t want to pressure you, but I need you to say that nothing happened.”

 

The young boy’s whipped around, his eyes bleak and betrayed. “No! You said _he_ would get in trouble! He’s not supposed to do those stuff to me, right?! But he _did_ and you said, you said, you said!” His voice was cracking from strain and tears.

 

Chris still couldn’t look at his younger brother. The one he was supposed to protect. The one he let down. The one he lied to. “Derek-”

 

“Don’t call _his_ name!”

 

The teen began again, “ _He_ is a very important person, Har. And he could get our family into a lot of trouble.”

 

Harlan remained unconvinced, his face a mess with bruises and tears and snot. “ _No!_ That’s not right! We’re supposed to tell the truth! _He’s_ a bad man! Bad men go to jail-”

 

“Har, you don’t get it-” **_Really shitty for a guy who was supposed to be his brother’s keeper._**

 

“- _he_ should just- die die die! He’s bad and I don’t like him and I don’t like this and you _said_!” The tears were a waterfall, making its rounds over the swollen cheeks, past the bruised mouth.

 

Chris’ heart was breaking for the kid. “Look. I know it isn’t fair, _okay_? We just can’t-”

 

“You mean _I_ can’t.”

 

“-say anything. We’ll get in a lot of trouble. They’ll say we’re lying and carry us to court and all of that stuff. And. I can’t let that happen. So _sorry._ But we can’t. You have to keep quiet about this, okay, Har?”

 

“Okay.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Shaking my head*
> 
> Look at the lot of you.
> 
> To my readers, please make your way to the next chapter in due time. The journey will be relatively smooth and virtually painless. Please give your regards at the end of this leg of the journey.
> 
> Love! <3  
> ->


	2. A Tale Told In A Trio+One Of Telephone Conversations

**1**

 

“-and your brother is the same.”

 

“Mom. Is he getting any better?”

 

“Well, you tell me! I can’t control him! He’s as strange as he was when you brought him home last year. Can’t you tell me what happened?”

 

“He’s just traumatized; it’s not his fault that his condition is getting worse because of it.”

 

“Young man, answer me.”

 

“No, mother. I can’t tell you what happened.”

 

“Well, may the Lord bless your heart, son, and may I remind you that lying is an abomination unto the Lord? Good night.”

 

* * *

**2**

 

“-he’s not as bad as he was. Still a bit odd though, mind you. Your father was telling me that Harlan’s made a friend too. He said the boy was _very_ polite. Son of his colleague, who was it, yes, it was Pastor Lugent’s son. And he’s on the choir. Good Christian boy.”

 

“Harlan has a friend?”

 

“Don’t you listen to your mother? I just said he did…”

 

“How old is he? Is he Harlan’s age?”

 

“Well, your father said that he’s 15. So he’s about a year ahead of him in that school of theirs.”

 

“Wait, he goes to the same school? Which district is his father pastor of?”

 

“…well, you see, ahaha, your father’s been slandered a bit by the naysayers.”

 

“Mom…did Derek’s family…?”

 

“What? No! God forbid! Derek’s still at that fancy university. They’re _good_ people. It’s just, your daddy’s been doing some ungodly things.”

 

“ _Really._ Are the Smiths involved? Is _Mary Smith_ involved?”

 

“Oh heavens. Yes, but, your father’s a man of God, and he told me he repented. You can’t fault a man for his past sins.”

 

“…yeah, bye.”

* * *

**3**

 

“-they were doing ungodly things in that bed! The temerity of it!”

 

“Oh my god.”

 

“Oh my gawd, indeed. And under your father’s roof! I told that boy, yes I did, that we would have no homosexuals under our roof! And what does he do? He commits sin in the bed his daddy paid for!”

 

“…you knew? Mom, wait, what? You’re not _kicking him out_ are you? He’s just 17! Mom-”

 

“He told me that the Devil was tempting him with the male form, but I _told_ him that God would help him through. And I thought that boy had a head on his shoulders! Your daddy and I can’t have him shaming us in such a way! Have the town’s been seeing that Lugent boy coming through his window like a, like a criminal!”

 

“So you found them…?”

 

“They were so disgusting! My Lord, that Lugent boy! To see that skinny behind moving, and dear Lord, _thrusting_. Your daddy ran for his Bible the moment he saw them.”

 

“Ack. Momma. I don’t wanna see that in my mind!”

 

“Well neither did we. That Lugent boy tricked us, Christopher. He tricked us all! Led Harlan into falling for temptation. And you know what that boy’s daddy, _a man of God_ , told us?”

 

“What?”

 

“He said that it’s love just the same! That they were born that way. What God would make my boy a homosexual?”

 

“…uh, Mom, well-”

 

“Not you too! I can’t believe it! He took those boys under his roof and was telling his congregation just this Sunday that God loves them just the same. What in the world is he smoking?! He’s just asking for God to strike him down!”

 

"...Mom. You can't say these things to Harlan."

 

"You listen here, boy! I did not raise you all up with a mind to sin!"

 

"Please, Mom."

 

"Tt. Good night."

 

* * *

  **(+1)**

 

“Uh, hello? Is this Chris…topher McCall?”

 

“Yeah. Who’s calling?”

 

“This is Frederick Lugent.”

 

“What are you calling me for, man?”

 

“Oh. So you know of me. Well, *heavy breathing echoes down the line* Harlan’s in the hospital. I found him in the bathtub of his place this morning…it’s not good. You should probably come to the hospital.”

 

“This _morning_! He was fine _yesterday_! What do you mean-? Oh god. I’ll be there.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fact: You can tell Chris is a Good Son by the fact that he calls his mom every night. 
> 
> Yeah. He doesn't call her every few years, but every night. 
> 
> Have you called your mom/dad/guardian/friend/so/loved-one today?
> 
> Ayyyye! It's Fred!

**Author's Note:**

> Can you hear their hearts breaking? Seems pretty loud to me.
> 
> Poor Chris. Poor Harlan. Poor everybody. Not Derek though.
> 
> HAHAHAHA. A lot of not funny stuff.
> 
> As always, let me know what you think.
> 
> Love! <3


End file.
